


for all the love that we've known

by dancer4813



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (back from 2017), Cass isn't sure what she wants, Critical Role Ladies Week, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Missing Scene, Set just before Episode 94 of Campaign 1, Tal'dorei Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer4813/pseuds/dancer4813
Summary: The world moves on, and Cassandra remains.





	for all the love that we've known

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally for Day 4 of the 2017 CR Ladies Week - Guest Characters, NPCs, and Villains. Originally posted on tumblr here.
> 
> Finally getting around to posting some old fics on here after letting them linger for so long!

The day comes, not entirely unexpected, when the city starts to empty again. Vox Machina came and went as often as the sun passing overhead, but eventually those who had fled Emon and dragons and fire for the cool safety of Whitestone had something to return to.

It’s not that she begrudges them a home, or some semblance of one - Cassandra knows what it’s like to lose a home - but there’s something to be said about the way the recent bustle in the streets starts to fade only weeks after Thordak’s fall.

Several families decide to return home. Cassandra doesn’t know if they received word of living family back in Emon, or perhaps somewhere else, and she doesn’t ask when they come knocking on the castle door. They thank her for her kindness, for allowing them to stay, for being “hospitable”, and she wonders if that’s part of being a leader – getting thanked for things you didn’t entirely contribute to. She’d let them stay, yes, but the last few months had been busy and she hadn’t taken a vested interest in any family’s living situation whilst mages were trying to rid them of the ominous presence below ground and illusory forms of allies seemed to pop up every day.

But, as it is, they thank her and they begin packing the same day, and when she makes her way down through the streets, empty of those who are packing up to leave, she feels like the city hasn’t been so empty since undead and giants roamed the streets. It hasn’t been so quiet since fog laid like a woolen blanket over the houses, terror keeping anyone from lingering in the open.

The former Empress and her children do not come to her directly, but Cassandra notices the familiar restlessness in them and asks when they will be returning to Emon over a cup of afternoon tea.

“I asked Eskil about it this morning, actually,” Salda says, glancing out over the courtyard where Odessa, Illiya, and Gren are running through the garden playing some form of tag. “I carry little power of my own without my title, but standing beside my husband for years gave me a good mind for the workings of Emon as a city. I believe the Clasp, as much as they might resent my presence, will respect that knowledge, and that the council being established there could use some guidance, with most of their members travelling far and wide.”

Cassandra feels somewhat vindicated by the ill-concealed snub at Vox Machina, but the smugness is somewhat dampened by the sour and tight feeling in her chest. She grips the handle of her teacup tightly to keep it from rattling in the saucer as she feels her hand shake.

“Will you be leaving soon then?”

“Likely tomorrow, or maybe the day after, once the children have had time to pack their things. I heard a caravan is coming up from the South – perhaps we can join them on their return journey.”

Cassandra wonders where Salda heard rumors of the caravan, and curses the many hours she is required to be in her study, signing notices and reviewing treaties.

“I was thinking we might bring the boys with us as well,” Salda says.

Lost for words for a moment, Cassandra tries to think of which boys would want to go to Emon – surely not Jarrett, for he had become nothing less than the leader of the Pale Guard. But perhaps Kynan, the teen Vox Machina had returned with after her brother’s-

“I just don’t think that being here without a parental figure is right for them,” Salda continues, interrupting Cassandra’s musings, though she’s still watching her children. “The gods only know what they’ve been through, poor things. First slavery in the Plane of Fire, then dumped at a castle in the last dregs of winter…”

Salda tuts and shakes her head, resigned, then sips her tea perhaps more aggressively than the situation calls for.

“But what do you think, Cassandra? You told me that Vox Machina was planning on settling down for a while after their current endeavor. Do you know if that’s still their plan?”

Cassandra, who has only just remembered the two blue-skinned boys Vox Machina had brought back with them, straightens to attention and shakes her head.

“I can never tell with them, I’m afraid,” Cassandra admits, willing down the flush beginning to color her cheeks and taking a deep breath. How she could have forgotten… She wonders if it’s a part of being the youngest sibling, or simply from needing to look after herself for so many years, but the care of the two boys hadn’t crossed her mind in many days.

“I continually labor under the assumption that Vox Machina won’t follow the letter of their word,” she says after a moment. “Their plans are too often influenced by the actions of others, and while they don’t go looking for trouble all the time, I think that trouble often comes looking for them.”

“So, no settling down?” Salda clarifies, and Cassandra holds back a sigh by taking another sip of her tea.

“I don’t think it will be settling so much as slowing down.”

Salda chuckles at that, though her lips purse slightly. “That sounds like them… But, in that case, I really don’t think that Hunin and Kyor should remain here unattended as they have been. They have already been playing quite a bit with the children, and joining in some lessons here and there… I also have a few friends still living in Emon who know Celestial and will be able to assist the two in their studies. They need someone who can help them understand more Common, who can nurture them fully – don’t you agree they’d have better prospects elsewhere?”

It sounds, to Cassandra, as though Salda has prepared her speech, and Cassandra wonders why she, even as the Lady of Whitestone, should be the one to give the woman permission to do anything. Leading has involved less decision-making and more approval of the decisions of others than Cassandra had first believed. And while her heart already aches to be rid of the small presence of the twins in addition to the Tal’dorei family, she nods solemnly, forcing herself to take another sip of her tea.

She reminds herself that she will not be one to dictate how others live their lives, and she will certainly not be one to keep people from living to the fullest.

“Wonderful,” Salda says, her voice warmer, her smile brighter, and her back straightening as if a load was falling off her shoulders.

The issue of the Aasimir twins had obviously been a concern of hers, and while Cassandra understands, that doesn’t stop the half-pained swell of emotion in her chest that echoes in Lady Briarwood’s simpering tone: “Wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve decided to stop fighting, dearie.?”

Cassandra has spent so much time trying to be her mother and channel that knowledge, that command of Whitestone, that she forgets what it means to have a mother of her own.

Here she sits, little Cassandra de Rolo, halfway between a child and an adult, unable to decide which to be.

Making up some excuse about needing to get paperwork done, Cassandra bids Salda farewell, a casual smile difficult to muster up.

She tells the guard outside her room not to disturb her, not unless there’s an emergency, and spends a few moments sorting through the clothes in her closet, trying to find something comfortable.

The only casual dress she can find has rust-colored stains of blood around the collar that turn her stomach and have her tossing it in the waste bin, shoving it below crumpled papers in a fit of sudden energy. Instead of changing, she stays in her more formal wear and pulls her duvet from her bed to wrap it around her shoulders as she curls up on the windowsill, alternating between staring out over the city and burying her face in the cloth.

Eventually silent tears soak the duvet, the vast majority of it held tight in her arms, but that doesn’t stop her from pretending. Cassandra pretends that she’s hugging and receiving a tight hug from someone who smells of lavender and currants, whose breath is warm and calming on top of her head, and who has a beating heart within, matching the pace of her own.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since Campaign 1, but I still find my heart hurting for Cass pretty much every day.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at dancer4813 or dancerwrites


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